


halves

by ironichipsterdouchewad



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-08 03:42:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3193961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironichipsterdouchewad/pseuds/ironichipsterdouchewad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Possibly the worst thing about Jake English is his complete lack of subtlety.</p>
            </blockquote>





	halves

Possibly the worst thing about Jake English is his complete lack of subtlety. He "falls asleep" on you on the sofa halfway through Avatar - which is nigh unheard of - head _conveniently_ nestled in your boobs. Suspiciously conveniently, considering you're not wearing your binder today.

"Jake." you say petulantly.

He ignores you.

"Jake," you repeat, and you flick his forehead with your forefinger. He wheezes out a small whiffling noise and continues pretending to be conked right the fuck out. "Bro, I know you're awake,"

He makes a 'mmmugrgh' groaning noise which is admittedly pretty adorable, and then smooshes his face down harder on you, which isn't so much.

"If you wanna fuck, you could at least sit up and ask, asshole."

"Don't wanna shag," he mumbles into your chest.

Fair enough. You think for a moment, eyes flickering up to the TV.

A moment becomes a few minutes.

You blink. "I refuse to believe you prioritize my tits over these fine-ass space furries,"

He snaps his head up then, completely awake. Of fuckin' course. "Aha!! So you FINALLY admit the space furries are fine as hell? I knew you weren't just fond of the equine sort!!!"

You put on your best 'aghast, but not really giving a crap' face, which means you don't move your face at all. "Lord, no. And frankly, I am offended by the implication that those things could be as alluring _as_ a hunk of anthromorphic stallion ass. Different leagues, Jake. Utterly incomparable."

He rests his chin on you and scowls. "Hogwash," he whispers conspiratorially. "That is not what just blew through my trumpet horns."

You decide to change the record. "You know that you're the only person in the entire world who has ever jacked off to those smurfs legitimately, right?"

He scowls harder. "That never happened. I never did that.”

"Sure, sweetie." and you ruffle his hair.

He grumbles out something that sounds mighty similar to "cheese louise" or some other bullshit and tries to resnuggle. He's heavy, so you decide to fidget around a bit every time he gets comfortable, just to be a dick.

"Dirk, really," he whines.

You do it again, and he snorts in frustration, and you move to roll him off of you and the sofa and onto the floor. He catches himself before you do, though, sitting up just in time and proceeding to make a conceited effort of rubbing his eyes and yawning and pouting. "You're so mean, look, I was asleep,"

"Asleep, my ass,"

He smiles, pouts harder, and picks up the remote.

He then quite suddenly turns the TV off, and the Pandorian jungle winks out of its plasmascreen existence.

It's quiet for a good minute. You can hear the neighbours moving a hoover around.

You sit up straight and stare at him.

"Houston..." you say.

He looks at you questioningly. He does the puppy head-tilt and everything.

"...we have a situation here,"

He sighs.

"Mx. Jacob Johnathan English has turned off the television console set... kkhst, I repeat, he has willingly disengaged from James Cameron's Avatar with no qualms, this is the same Jacob Johnathan English that wrestled me to keep the damn thing on barely a week ago and broke the fucking coffee table in the process, kkhst, no sir this is not a drill,"

"Oh shut it," he says, and smiles.

You sit up besides him, before leaning in and kissing him lightly, once, for the hell of it.

He decides this isn't good enough, of course, and does his usual thing of attacking the fuck out of you instead, hard and breathless, slipping his tongue against you, and yeah, you knew it. He's about as hard to read as Fisher Price.

You shrug, revelling in him and his Jakeness and his wet mouth for a few minutes, before leaning back. He leans his head forward and tries to keep kissing you.

"Aaaaaand here was me thinking you were sleepy," you say with faux surprise.

His eyes gleam and his eyebrows move like two absurd crickets. A hand finds itself on your waist. You'll take that as a no.

"You know, I do distinctly remember you insisting you'd rather not engage in any carnal activities this evening, too." you breathe onto his lips.

He giggles but it's more of a gravelly chuckle and something buzzes in your stomach. "Maybe I changed my mind,"

"Prick," you say and don't really mean and he kisses you again.

You open your mouth more and kiss him hard for a bit; cupping his face and thumbing his stubble, and there’s a small moment of shifting as him and his unfairly attractive body crawls onto your lap, which is something he pauses halfway through.

"Down here?" he asks. You've both lived in your flat for a good year, but he still refers to any room that isn't the bedroom as downstairs.

You make a 'hmm' noise that Jake interprets as a 'mmm' noise and he rakes his hand through your hair slowly. You feel the gel unravel. You will murder him one day. "Nah," you say.

He nods in agreement and hoists himself upright and off of you. He stretches his arms upward, purposely, and his shirt retreats to show off his happy trail and his delicious lower stomach.

He catches you staring - not that you were trying to hide it, those days are long past, thank fuck - and snickers. "Come on," he says, offering you a hand, and you take it and stand up, but before you've established yourself, he kisses you quickly.

As he's backing away, you grab his face and force it to stay there and kiss him again, feeling his lips melt against yours, and you feel yourself smile unbidden.

You let your hands fall from his head, and he takes one in a clammy hand and almost frogmarches you down the hallway. Upon barging into your (shared) room with all the grace and tact of a brick being thrown through a window, he kisses you again.

"What's the plan?" you interrupt, slightly more breathless than you would have otherwise preferred.

"Dunno," he says, closing the door with his foot and reattaching himself to you.

This time he goes slower, a little more rhythmically, and you push him against the door and run your hands under his shirt, and you feel your crotch hum as you press your chests together.

After a few more minutes of kissing him, you lean back again. "No, seriously, what do you want to do?"

"Hmm," he says, and his voice is doing the gravelly thing again. He drums his fingers on your shoulder and swallows. "Well, what do you want to do?" and he smiles, too.

A long, long time ago, you sat down and thought very firmly that Jake is one of those people who could never be sexy. Ever. Even with effort. Too much of a moron. Wears cleats and khakis. Makes out with film posters. Uses words that are probably the exact opposite of sexy near constantly. ('Posterior' will never be a sexy word.)

So, Jake = not sexy. A simple equation, albeit one you made in your gay panic phase when you were fourteen.

"Alright, well," you say shortly, because you are ashamed of how much you want Jake in your pants pretty much right now, "I asked you first,"

"And I asked you second,"

"You know how to count, right?"

"Duh! But I am going to politely refuse to answer until you have given me an indicator of what realm exactly of nookieland you wish to traverse to on this fine evening,"

"'Nookieland'?" you wince.

"Yeah!" he says.

"Right," you run your fingers through the back of his hair.

He puts on what he has previously described as his 'thinking cap'; which compromises of him scratching his chin and looking up and to the right. This time is sans chin scratching, because your face is kind of right there, but you do feel his hand twitch. "Do you want to do the thing again," he asks.

"What thing. There are a million things. You could be asking me to pack my bags and leave for Mongolia for all I fuckin know, better get a little more specific.”

"Okay well I'm not asking you to pack for Mongolia though that would be a fun trip," the hand on your shoulder moves down to your hip again to stroke slowly and you both stare at it. "Can we make love again?"

"I believe that's the point of this, yes." you say, ignoring your pulse jumping. "I'm glad were on the same page,"

He snickers at that. "Hehe, page,"

"Yeah. Yeah that was the joke I was going for,"

"So can we?"

"Yeah, whatever."

"Well that's none too enthusiastic," he says, and you know that he knows you like being poked about this sort of thing, and you're quite thankful for the room being dark.

"...I want to."

"I can't hear youuuu," he says in that fucking spongebob pirate captain voice as he slots his head by your ear and oh my god fuck him so much. You groan in horror but he knows you're joking and you both laugh a little before kissing again.

And again.

"I do, though," you say after a while.

"Silly bee," he replies.

You both walk over to the bed and he sits down on it and you kiss him, hard, and he makes an 'oof' noise as he lands on the covers. You kiss him a little more gently as an apology, as you move on top of him, but he ignores the fuck out of that and goes right back to his usual Jake-slobber. Not that you're complaining.

"You," you speak into his mouth as he keeps kissing you, "didn't- even answer my question properly,"

"Mmm," and he moves his head to kiss at your jaw. Your voices are muffled by each others proximity. "No, I did,"

You scoff. "Bullshit,"

"You know I'm not into that, babe," and he licks your neck.

You let out a snort and a noise that isn’t a snort as he increases the pressure of his tongue on your skin, his hand migrating up your thigh. "Hah,"

"Mmm," he says, but he doesn't seem to be paying much attention. Your arm is starting to fuzz, so you move it up to his head and stroke his hair again as he keeps licking you.

You close your eyes a little and let yourself feel him. You really don't think you'll ever get over how warm he is or just how solid and also why, in particular, the well under your ear hums with need when he does that. You wish he'd touch you.

"Can I," he mumbles after a few minutes, hot and soft on your throat.

You make a 'go on' noise.

"Do this here-?" and he moves his hand from the outside of your thigh to place it flat against your crotch.

You feel yourself tense at the warmth there. "Ngn,”

"Okay, we can always do something else,"

"Oh no, no I mean, yeah,"

"Oh! Right. Right! Sorry." he whispers, and he moves down again to kiss the well of your neck, and gently teeths you there. You pant and hope he leaves a mark.

"Only as long as you take your shorts off," you add.

"You as well!!!" he says, and he seems embarrassed.

"I can imagine it'd be pretty difficult to eat me out with my jeans on but, hey, I'm always up for a challenge,"

"Aurghhh, shhh!!" he says and he laughs again and you grin.

You sit up a bit on top of him and take your shirt off from the back. He watches you and you can feel the glee emanate off him and Yeah, yeah, you have a pretty awesome dude bod, thanks.

You slide your shirt onto the carpet and he gropes your boob. You roll your eyes and then your hips a few times, feeling your skin shiver. His eyes flutter.

Running your hands under his shirt, he takes the cue to take his own off. You hop off of him quickly, standing by the side of the bed, and move your jeans and boxers off as he struggles with his belt and pulls his shorts and pants down in a pause of frustrated fussing.

You sit back on the bed besides him, and look at him and his wiry chest, and stroke one of his thighs a little. He's not very hard, but when you run a hand along his trail of hair, you see him twitch in interest.

"Hmm," you say absentmindedly. He moves a little forward to nuzzle at your jaw, his hands coming together around your waist.

You go to move his head upwards and kiss him but instead he pushes you over – then, when you're down, kisses your neck so lightly it's as if he didn't at all, and then your sternum, and repositions himself a little better over you, lying himself on his belly and sat up on his elbows.

Which is nice and a fairly smooth move on his part, except your head is falling off the bed, so you both reposition around a little.

"I was think-thunking," he ghosts over your stomach again, once your both settled and comfortable, descending, and the whole room is cold suddenly, "we should hop silverscreens one time, do a whole day,"

You slide your eyes shut. "Did you have anything in mind?"

"Not really," he mutters, gravelly again, and he doesn't so much kiss as brush his lips against the line where your thigh meets your lower stomach. You breathe and feel yourself tense. "Just sounded like fun."

"Fun," you repeat, and he gently seals his mouth between your legs.

"Ah," you say, winding a hand or two into his hair, and he takes that as a sign to lick a little harder, swirl a little stronger. You can feel your face starting to prickle.

He wraps a brown hand flat on your thigh and pushes his mouth further, slides his tongue up to flick you there, and you scowl and breathe hard through your nose.

"Sounds like a lot of fun," you choke out, pulling on his hair without really thinking.

He hums, and rocks his head into you, and kisses you lewdly. Your stomach tightens a notch. His stubble itches in a good way.

You lean your head backwards and just focus, and he pushes one of your thighs further away as he goes harder, tongues you almost roughly just under your clit and you make a gross whining noise and he backs off.

"Y-you okay?" you ask him, breathless already, leaning up slightly to look at him.

"Yeah," he says, licking his lips, _Jesus,_ "Do you want me to put, um, my fing-”

“Yes,”

"Hehe," he says, because you're a bit worked up (you'd have the sense to be embarrassed but its not really at the forefront of your mind right now)- but God if he doesn't look good in the half light between your thighs. He sees you watching, his eyes concentrating and his mouth flushed, and he kisses you gently again, and because he knows your watching, he's winking at you as he does. Winking. Multiple times.

"Erugh," you say intelligibly in response, and he snickers into you. And then sucks you. And flicks his tongue again, rhythmically, and you're making a kind of gross noise but god you don't care, you're clutching his hair so hard you might be hurting him and you're breathing heavily and making the odd fairly humiliating noise and where his mouth meets you, you feel molten and heavy.

You rock into his mouth, the heat in you needing him to go harder, and you make a few harsh noises as you feel your leg trembling. A part of yourself calls this fairly pathetic and you ignore it. "Mmm, yeah,"

"Yeah?" he mumbles.

"Yes," dragging the 's', and he moves off of you - to your disappointment - and gives you a small look before shifting his body onto his knees and his hand up to trail the pad of his thumb across your vulva. He's trying to go slow and teasingly but you can sense – and feel - his impatience and you groan at the thought - he's turned on by this. By you.

He changes over to his forefinger and he presses your clit down, gently rubbing it up, and your ribcage seems to tighten. You struggle to breathe as he moves down further and gently pushes against you, and slides into you.

There's a short fizz of discomfort at the entrance and how fast he went in but it fades, and then he's just holding still, and you can feel the small of your back lifting off the bed in want. When he doesn't move, you twist your pelvis up in impatience, dragging the flat of him down your walls.

“God,” he warbles, moving his hand. He curls his finger as he starts to pivot in and out, and you grunt. His body repositions and then his mouth is kissing yours again, and he tastes of you, and his chin is wet, and you take full advantage of his body to grope handfuls of his skin and breathe into his mouth.

He starts to put his arm more into the movements and you groan and he adds another finger, easily, with how relaxed you are, and your hands scramble.

One is knotted in his hair, again, and the other finds yourself wildly grabbing for his dick. It's a reach, and he notices, so he shifts forwards a little and drops to one knee so you can wrap your hand around the head. His thumb on the hand inside you is digging into your inner leg in his effort to reach deeper, and your spine buzzes as he moves more irregularly. You can feel your head spin.

You wrap your tongue into his mouth and move with his hand, and this is a really bad angle to jack him off, actually. He breaks the kiss and gets back up onto both knees to shift his body higher, and you drag the palm of your hand up his length brutally, and he shakes a little.

“U-um,” he says, his mouth besides your ear, “can you-”

You know what he's asking, so you drag your hand from between you to spit on it (which is a pretty difficult challenge with his shoulder in your face and his fingers fucking into you) and you feel his dick rub against your stomach. You worm your hand back down between the two of you and start to jack him off again. You make a small questioning _'this alright?'_ noise because the words aren't really coming and he sighs shakily and nods.

You turn your head into him to lick at his collar and twist your hand on the upward stroke at the same time, and he groans. He thrusts into your hand and in his heat his fingers inside you lie momentarily forgotten, but his shunting still jolts them a little, and you feel your eyes flickering.

You suck his neck – he tastes of sweat - and he tugs his fingers out of you roughly. He clutches your other shoulder with the now free hand, shimmying around a little, and you can feel the stickiness on his fingers, and he groans again.

His panting sends desperation rolling down into you, and more than anything you want to get him off, if only so he'll touch you again. Honestly, your wrist aches but you push on, drawing your thumb around his foreskin. He starts kissing you madly, his mouth randomly attaching to your cheek and your jaw and your ear and you bite down harder on the gap where his collar meets his shoulder. He starts gasping and shaking and he comes surprisingly fast, dribbling onto your stomach. His breath is hard and high-pitched as you work it out of him, him moving his dick weakly into the circle of your hand.

His body goes limp on top of you and he wheezes into your ear. You let go of him and move your hand to the side.

“Hey, can you,” you start, throat dry, and he nods and moves his hand and finger back between you to rub at you again.

“Mnngm,” you say, and he agrees, but you can feel his arm is weak and he isn't really up to it and also you're a little sore, so it doesn't feel too great.

“Mhmm, it's, nah,”

“Hmm?”

“Don't, uh, actually, 'wanna sleep,” you say. God you hope he understands.

He does. “'kay,” and with that he slides off of you and tries to get his breathing back on track.

You watch his chest move up and down and the sweat on his brow and his eyelids cementing and find yourself curling up next to him. Your crotch aches but it's alright.

He puts a sweaty hand on your hip, and you start to move the forgotten duvet up from the end of the bed. He groans out a whiny “noo, 'm hot,” and you snort and leave it.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> the most ooc fic in the world


End file.
